When I look at this series I struggle to find the connective thread: a “theme,” a cohesive through-line. What I see are moments strung together like frames on a roll of old film forgotten about then found at the bottom of a cluttered drawer and developed years later. My life since becoming a mother is vastly different than before I gave birth; even the in-between moments are filled with a seemingly chaotic spinning where there was once a quiet and introspection. What I see when I look at these images is a life filled with creative purpose and a deep need to document individuals and environments on the perimeters of my hustle to care for my young children. Yet, there is an unadulterated passion for play no matter what ‘the manual’ says about parents never having enough time, never enough energy, never enough moments to ourselves. In the early days of postpartum, I remembered feeling obligated to produce time to create, and with children, time has a much more elusive identity, to be certain. So as this time thing goes on, especially during this historic pandemic, I see art permeate everything I experience and if I’m paying enough attention, the babies that rule my existence are the muses of any half-good art I have possibly created. They have touched me and because of it everything around them touches me. I am surely a better photographer because of them. I use my life more meaningfully because of them. And hopefully, by way of how I approach my work, they will know that staying true to one’s passion in a malleable way is the best portal into contentment. That’s, ultimately, the thread for me — the ever widening perception of it all.